


The Meaning of Love

by Elfflame



Series: Blaise + Miles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 50 Smutlets, Community: daily_deviant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-13
Updated: 2006-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone tries to steal something from Blaise’s shop, and it turns out to be a long-lost lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part in my Miles/Blaise series, after **The Replacement** and **A New Beginning**. Neither is vital to read to understand this, though the first is referenced a bit, and the second explains the setting of this fic. Longest of my daily_deviant fics yet. Thank you to Littlecup and Amberry for looking it over.

It had been a rather busy morning, so Blaise was restocking the trays rather than taking Vittorio away from the register. His bakery was one of the most popular in their corner of Naples. Enough that he not only had Vittorio for the front and the register, but a whole band of bakers and assistants in the back to help prepare each morning’s creations. In fact, he was beginning to think that perhaps it was time to hire a second person to help in the shop.

He was musing over the idea when he saw a pale, dirty hand reach out of the crowd and snatch a rosemary garlic cheese roll from one of the newly-filled baskets in front of the counter. He grabbed the wrist before it could escape with its prize, and the roll was dropped.

“You were going to pay for that, weren’t you?” Blaise asked in flawless Italian. There weren’t too many tourists in this part of town, and the fact that the hand was dirty marked it as belonging to one of the local street urchins.

The person tried to pull away, but Blaise wasn’t about to let go. When there was no other answer, he dragged the owner of the hand out of the crowd. He found himself facing a scrawny, dirty boy only a bit shorter than himself. He looked to be in his late teens, and obviously hadn’t eaten in some time. He had a hood over his face, so Blaise couldn’t make out his features, but when he shifted to try to see under the hood, the boy ducked his head to avoid his gaze.

“Answer me,” he growled at the boy.

The boy shivered, then shook his head vigorously. Before Blaise had realized what had happened, the boy had yanked his wrist from Blaise’s hand, and was out of the shop in a flash. He shouted to Vittorio that he would be back in a moment, then shot out the door after the boy.

It took him a moment to find the fleeting figure, but he caught up with him quickly enough, following him as he turned off the street and into a nearby alley. When he caught up to him, he grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Who are you?” he asked as he spun the boy around. The motion made the boy’s hood fall back, and Blaise’s jaw dropped as he took in a pale, pointed face, grey eyes, and silver-blond hair. “Draco?” he asked incredulously. He’d thought Draco was dead. Had thought so for more than a year now, and to see him standing here, dirty and scrawny, but still very much alive, made it feel as though someone had punched him in the stomach. “How…Where have you been?”

Draco looked away at the question, apparently more interested in the rat sniffing behind a dustbin nearby, though he’d been looking rather longingly at Blaise only the moment before. “Pretend you haven’t seen me,” he told him in a low, raspy voice. “Please.”

Blaise looked at him, aghast. “I can’t do that, Draco. Please, tell me where you’ve been. I thought you were dead.”

Draco tried to pull away, but Blaise held him tight. “Just forget I even existed,” Draco pleaded.

“No,” Blaise said, his grip never loosening. “Come home with me.” But he didn’t bother to wait for a response before taking Draco and leading him by the arm back to his shop.

As they passed through, he grabbed up a small handful of rolls, and told Vittorio that he would be upstairs if he was needed. When he saw the nod, he turned and led Draco up the steps to his flat above the shop. It would be quieter there, and Draco would be able to relax a bit, so they could talk.

He led Draco into the sitting room, where a sharp-featured, dark-haired young man sat reading. He looked up at their entrance, smiling when he saw Blaise. “You’re back awfully quick this morning,” he said. “Slow day, or…” his eyes widened when he recognized Draco. “Malfoy?”

Draco had been surprisingly complacent when Blaise had pulled him along, but now he was tugging at the grasp on his wrist. He whimpered when Blaise caught him around the waist and pulled him forward.

“It’s all right, Draco. Miles doesn’t bite. He won’t hurt you. Will you, Miles?” he asked the other man pointedly.

Bemused, Miles blinked for a moment, then realizing that Blaise had been addressing him, nodded in agreement.

Gently guiding Draco towards the couch across from Miles, Blaise pressed him down into the cushions, then handed him the rolls he’d picked up in the shop. “Eat. When was the last time you had anything?” he asked as he sat down nest to him.

Draco shrugged, already nibbling at one of the rolls. For a few minutes, silence filled the room, the only noise coming from Draco as he ate. Finally, Blaise couldn’t stand it any more. “They said you were dead.” It was like seeing some sort of ghost. He had given Draco up for dead even before the Prophet had declared the war over and had printed a list of the dead, Draco’s name somewhere near the bottom, as though he had no more importance than Longbottom, or some other squib.

When Draco hadn’t responded after a moment, Blaise said softly, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Draco snorted, and Miles looked a bit wary. Blaise and Miles had mostly avoided the subject of Draco over the past three years. He knew it was a sensitive subject for the other man, mostly because Miles knew how close Blaise and Draco had been before Draco’s disappearance in their sixth year. Blaise thought that his lover believed that now that Draco had reappeared, Blaise would go back to him, leaving him behind. He reached out and set his hand on Miles’s leg reassuringly. The other man didn’t relax, but his expression lightened.

Miles temporarily dealt with, Blaise turned back to look at Draco, who had now started on a second roll. “What happened?” Blaise asked.

Draco stopped eating abruptly, and looked up at Blaise with a worried look. It was several minutes before Blaise decided Draco wasn’t going to answer.

“Draco, the war is over. No one is going to hurt you here.”

Draco laughed coldly. “Right. Like Bletchley there wouldn’t be thrilled to get rid of me in any way possible.”

“I wouldn’t, Malfoy,” Miles responded. “I know Blaise is fond of you. I would hardly hurt him that way.”

Blaise squeezed his leg in thanks, but otherwise stayed silent, waiting for Draco’s response.

He didn’t have to wait long. Draco’s face grew red, not in embarrassment, but in temper. “Right. Because I need your charity,” he snarled. He moved to stand, but obviously lack of food had made him quite weak, and he struggled to find his balance, finally turning away with a small huff, and curling into the back of the couch so that he did not have to look at them.

Blaise gave Miles’s leg another squeeze in thanks, then moved closer to Draco, who pulled away from him, hiding further into the couch. Blaise sighed at that, watching his friend with worry. “Please let me help you, Draco. You can barely stand. And…I’ve missed you so much. You’re only here because I want you help you. Not because I think I have to. You’re my friend. You’re important to me. Let us help you a bit, at least? Once you’ve regained your strength, you can do whatever you want. I won’t even stop you from leaving if that’s all you wish, all right?”

Draco looked torn, obviously not quite able to believe Blaise’s words. “I…” He went pale, and Blaise took his hand.

“What is it, Draco?” he asked softly.

Though he struggled with the answer, Draco seemed unable to voice his problem at all. Finally, he shook his head and tried to pull away a bit violently. “No. I… Please…”

Blaise was alarmed at Draco’s reaction. It was far too familiar, and at a glance over at Miles, he saw the other man had seen it as well. Miles nodded at him, and Blaise pulled Draco onto his lap, his arms relaxed about the slender waist. “You’re safe here,” he repeated. Draco stiffened in his arms at first, but soon relaxed against his chest. It took a full five minutes before the sobs began, his face turning in to hide against Blaise’s chest. Miles rose and left the room to give them some privacy. Blaise just sat there, holding him close, rocking gently, and waited for the sobs to subside.

It was several minutes before Draco managed to calm, but once he had, he shifted to look put at Blaise. “Why do you care?” he asked softly.

Blaise ran a hand through Draco’s lank, bedraggled and dirty hair. “Do you remember that afternoon in the locker room after the Quidditch final in third year?”

Draco went stiff again, but nodded, though he looked away. “I still don’t understand why you did that, either. Or how you could possibly let _him_ touch you after _that_?”

“Miles didn’t hurt me that day, Draco. In fact, he barely did anything. Just a kiss. The rest wasn’t until—” Blaise broke off abruptly.

“Until I disappeared?” Draco asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

“Yes,” Blaise agreed, feeling a bit hollow. He might not have been assured that he and Draco would still have been together if he hadn’t run off, but he’d always known he wouldn’t have been allowed to stay with him forever. Even though he felt guilt for going to Miles so soon after Draco’s disappearance, there had always been something between he and Miles, as far back as the day of that match. He loved Draco, but he wasn’t going to desert Miles for him, whatever else happened.

That didn’t mean he was going to abandon Draco either, though. Whatever else, Blaise would be there as much as Draco would allow.

Miles reappeared, a tray with biscuits and teat things in his hands. “Thought Malfoy might appreciate something a bit warmer.” He set the tray on the table in front of him, them handed him a plate. Draco stared at it for a moment before putting what was left of his rolls on it, then setting it in his lap. He watched mutely as Miles served them each, then settled back in his own seat once more.

Draco looked back and forth between them. “So…what? You’re just going to take me in like some stray dog?”

“Damn it, Draco. Don’t you get it? I want you here. If I could have stopped the events that separated us, I would have.”

“And he’d just let you be with me?” Draco asked bitterly, nodding his head towards Miles.

Before Blaise could even open his mouth, Miles was the one to respond. “Blaise is an adult, Draco, and I know how he feels about me. His being with someone else isn’t going to change that.”

Draco blinked at that. You don’t care who he sleeps with?”

“That’s not what I said. No matter who he is with, it won’t change what is between the two of us.”

Draco seemed unwilling to believe what Miles was saying. “Right. Because you don’t think anyone could take him from you.”

This time Blaise answered first, with a sigh. “No, Draco. Because we’re secure enough in ourselves and each other that we know others would take nothing away from what we have together.”

Snorting, Draco shook his head. “You’re both deluded. Things fall apart, no matter how you hold onto them.”

“They fall apart because people hold on too tight, Malfoy,” Miles said. He was normally of an even temper, but Blaise could see that this conversation was beginning to wear on him a bit. The truth was, though they both believed what they were saying, the theory had never been tested before. Even worse, Draco had always been the weak spot in their conversation when they’d discussed this in the past. Blaise wasn’t too sure this was the best test for his lover’s resolve.

“Miles has always known how important you are to me, Draco.” In fact, when Blaise had gotten the news of Draco’s death, he had been quite sympathetic, holding him all night as he mourned. “He knows those feelings don’t change how I feel about him.”

It was only when Draco looked up at him with an astonished expression that Blaise realized he and Draco had never discussed _their_ feelings for each other. “And those feelings…” Draco said slowly, “what sort are they?”

With a glance at Miles, Blaise took a moment to sort things out in his own head before he answered. He turned to meet Draco’s eyes. “Draco… You were the first person I ever _chose_ to be with. You know that, right?” Draco nodded. “Then you must have some idea of how important you were to me at the time. And you still are, Draco. Even though we haven’t seen each other in three years. I might have thought you were dead, but I never stopped thinking about you.”

Draco looked at him for a long time; just staring at him as though there were something written there that he couldn’t quite make out. When he finally spoke, his voice was angry and petulant as only Draco knew how. “But you love _him_ , so what does it matter?”

Blaise sighed and tightened his hold. Draco stiffened when he did, but if Draco needed a physical demonstration of how he felt, that was what he would get. Miles didn’t look too pleased himself, but at least he wasn’t throwing a tantrum about it. There was a long, tense stretch of silence before Draco finally relaxed once more. Blaise wasn’t too sure what had made the difference, but was relieved to feel those too-slender arms slide around his own waist.

“Love for one person doesn’t disappear simply because another is loved as well, Draco,” he whispered into the lank, dirty blond hair.

Draco’s response was so hoarse as to be almost incomprehensible. “Love?”

Blaise didn’t look at Miles before he responded. Right now, he needed to focus on Draco. If Miles couldn’t understand that, then they would just have to deal with that later. “Yes, Draco. Love.”

Grey eyes looked up at him. Blaise could see disbelief warring with hope in them. It was easier to lean forward and kiss Draco than to see the pain there. The soft gasp against his lips made it difficult not to just take, but he controlled his passion, letting Draco control the kiss.

His heart sank when Draco pulled away. “Draco…”

“No. It’s no…” He glanced at Miles, then back to Blaise. “Could…” He took a deep breath, then made a face and tried again. “Would you mind if I took a bath?”

A bath. Blaise couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his face at the request. “You’re more than welcome to. Would you like me to show you…?”

Draco shook his head. “Just point me?” he asked.

Nodding, Blaise pointed down the hall. “Second door on the left. There should be towels in the cupboard next to the bath.”

Draco smiled, then moved carefully off Blaise’s lap and disappeared quickly down the hall and through the door Blaise had pointed out. Once he was gone, Blaise turned to Miles. He found himself rather shocked at the acceptance he saw on the other man’s face.

“He’s so broken,” Miles said quietly.

It was true. In school, Draco’s confidence had been ever-present. Insults had always been met with a much nastier attitude than what had met their arguments today. Draco was never one to simply concede, but despite his hostility when they had talked, he had seemed almost cowed.

“I don’t think I want to know what it took for him to get here,” Blaise responded quietly. “Or even what it took to escape England.”

“I hate to say it, but I’m sure we both have some idea,” Miles said, moving from where he sat to settle next to Blaise. “Tell me what you want, Blaise.”

Blaise sighed and leaned against him. Right now it was hard to know what he really wanted, but his basic response was automatic. “I want to help him.” It had always been true, and Draco had never needed it more than now.

“I don’t think he’ll thank you for your pity.”

Blaise pulled away to look up at him. “Pity has never been at all involved in how I feel about him, Miles.”

Miles nodded, and Blaise relaxed. “So, now what?” he asked.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Blaise asked softly.

“His attitude annoys me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I meant every word I said. I know you care for me, no matter how you feel about him. Do what you need, Blaise. I’m not going anywhere.”

Blaise drew him into a hug, then kissed him softly. “Thank you.” He hesitated, then asked, “Could you do me a favor and go down and help Vittorio out in the shop? It’s a mob down there, and I’d rather he didn’t have to face it alone.”

He wasn’t sure if he had been subconsciously testing Miles or not, but when the other man nodded, he sighed with relief. “I’ll bring something up for lunch after. He looks like he hasn’t eaten since he left England.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea. We’ll see you in a bit, then?” Miles smiled, then pulled him into another kiss before leaving, then Blaise moved to the bathroom door and knocked. “Everything all right in there, Draco?” he called out.

There was a squeak, then a splash, then Draco’s voice called out, “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“There’s no rush, Draco. I just wanted to make sure that you’d found everything all right.”

“I’m fine!” Draco called out again, though Blaise thought he heard a note of panic in the tone this time.

“Draco? Is something wrong?”

The tone was sharper this time. “No. I told you. I’m fine. Now…just let me finish my—” There was a loud crash, and another splash, and Blaise, worried that something had happened to Draco, opened the door so that he could rush to his side.

Draco was on the floor of the shower, and when the door opened, he drew his legs toward his chest, at first scared, then annoyed. “I told you I was fine,” he grumbled.

Blaise sighed. “It sounded like you hurt yourself. I was worried.”

“Yeah, well…I survived this long…” He tried to get to his feet, but stumbled again on the slick porcelain.

Blaise hurried forward in time to catch him and keep him from falling again. “Damn it, Draco! Let me help you.” There was no way in hell he was going to let Draco hurt himself—accidentally or on purpose.

Draco tried to pull from his arms. “Stop it. I’m not an invalid. Just...let me do this. I can.” But Blaise could see the insecurity on his face.

“It’s all right, Draco. I’m not going to laugh at you. Just give you a bit of help.”

“I don’t need help!” Draco snarled, pulling from Blaise’s grasp, sliding once more on the bottom of the tub and falling backwards.

Blaise sighed. “I’m not going to force you, Draco. But I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, either. Why don’t you let me run you a bath, at least?” But Draco didn’t seem to be listening. In fact, his hands were over his face, and Blaise realized, with a lurch of his stomach, that his shoulders were trembling just slightly. He pulled off his robe, draped it on a hook near the tub, then, uncaring of his trousers, settled on the floor of the tub with Draco and pulled him into his arms. “Shh. I know it’s difficult, Draco, but...”

“You don’t…you can’t…” Draco tried to pull away, but Blaise wasn’t about to let him.

He took Draco’s face in his hands. “Whatever happened doesn’t matter. You’re here. You’re safe. And I’m thrilled. I won’t be sorry for whatever it might have taken for you to get here, Draco. Let me show you?”

Draco stilled, looking up at him. “How?” he asked softly.

Blaise had meant the shower, but Draco’s question made him stop and rethink. “Whatever you want. Tell me. What would help you believe that I’m thrilled you’re here?”

Draco glanced at the door, then back at Blaise, and Blaise knew he was wondering if Miles was going to come rushing in, enraged. “Anything?”

Blaise smiled. “Anything.” He ran a hand down Draco’s side, trying to ignore the fact that Draco’s ribs were horribly prominent. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“I…I’ve missed your mouth.” He swallowed, barely managing to keep his eyes on Blaise’s. “Would you…?”

It was simple to answer. A press of lips to lips, and a soft sigh from Draco. Blaise smiled, then began to kiss his way down Draco’s body. This was something they had both enjoyed when they were young, and Blaise was hardly going to deny him after the conversation they’d just had in the living room. The rest would figure itself out soon enough.

His hands traced Draco’s sides as he worked his way down, stopping to lap lightly at rosy, already-pebbled nipples, before settling between Draco’s legs. “Up on the rim of the tub, love,” he asked softly.

Draco nodded, then shifted up, settling carefully on the thankfully flat edge of the rim. Once he was settled, Blaise ran his fingers along the inside of his legs, smiling when they shifted apart at the touch. He pressed a last kiss on Draco’s belly, then leaned in to take the head of his cock in his mouth, licking softly at the slit and running his tongue around the edges of his foreskin until Draco let out a bit of a whine, and his fingers worked into Blaise’s now-damp hair to urge him to take more.

Blaise had no problem with that idea. He hadn’t taken too much at once because he’d wanted to know this was truly what Draco wanted, and the other man had always been so difficult to read in bed, silent and passive until Blaise managed to hit the right spot, when they’d been together before. Even then, he had always tried to stifle his responses, though Blaise couldn’t help but wonder if that had been because he’d been scared the others would find them; that his father would find out. He certainly didn’t seem to be having that problem now. Sharp breaths were soon followed by soft moans as Blaise worked his lips and tongue over the sensitive organ, and the fingers in his hair tightened ever so slightly.

Soon enough, Blaise could tell that Draco had reached the edge, and it was a simple thing to swallow around the shaft of his cock, swallowing him down his throat until he’d taken then entire length of him in. Draco moaned loudly, and Blaise felt the shaft swell for a moment, and then Draco was coming. Blaise pulled back so as not to choke, then gentled his friend through his climax, pulling away only once Draco had finished. He sat back and urged Draco down into his lap once more.

“Stay with us,” he asked in a low voice, husky from what he had just done.

Draco panted against his neck for a long moment before looking up at Blaise. “And Bletchley?”

“Wants you to stay as well,” Blaise assured him.

Draco still seemed wary, but after a moment, he nodded, then pressed a kiss to Blaise’s lips. “Then I will.”

Blaise smiled. Everything would be just fine.


End file.
